


Hold Together

by Cosmic_Biscuit



Series: To Fall and Rise [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmic_Biscuit/pseuds/Cosmic_Biscuit
Summary: The Commander deals with it in her own way. Or doesn't. (Spoilers for All or Nothing)





	Hold Together

Everyone said that Sinnigia had it easier between the two of them. What was the saying they used in the Grove when they thought the two of them weren't listening? …Oh, yes. One thrived in the shadows while the other was withered by the scorching sun.

Perhaps, in a way, it was true. 

Cloeme had never wanted this life.

But… neither had Sinnigia.

And yet she never walked away, though she had actually had the choice to do so. They had remained two halves of one whole, she and her twin, Sinnigia insisting on staying by Cloeme's side through all of this trouble and despair. 

The burden, she had helped shoulder.

The pain, she had been there to heal.

The nightmares, she had been there to soothe.

The dragon who had taken root in her heart as a daughter, her twin had thrown herself into the role of auntie with all of her own heart.

And the only reason they were not  _both_ lost in the shadows and shades was because Cloeme had ordered her to stay behind with the others.

_Ordered._

Cloeme had seen what happens to those who are left behind. Lovers and family who mourn themselves into mere hulls of what they once were. Friends who throw themselves at death to rejoin the ones they’ve lost. More than once, to a lesser degree, she, too, had felt that empty, yawning hole where a smiling face once rested in her heart.

She thought of that pain, and she wondered what it was like for her twin once the bond between them had been severed. She wondered what it had been like for _Aurene_ , to have  _their_ bond severed.

She wondered what was happening to her family then.

She wondered what would happen to them in the future, should she stay.

Would they make Sinnigia take her place? Would Aurene be saved?

Would her twin now be the one to wither in the sunlight? Would her daughter fall to Balthazar's greed for power?

But…

There would be no one thriving in the shadows for her family to fall back on.

No…

No.

She could not…  _would_ not… be so cruel as to do that to them.

They were two halves of a whole, she and her twin. They were bound by the soul, she and her daughter.

_Sinnigia, Aurene, I’m coming._

\---

“So… ‘Heroic’ Ashes, huh?”

The twins both regarded the unassuming little urn, their arms folded and their heads tilted slightly in an identical expression of contemplation. Then Cloeme reached out and picked it up, taking off the lid to peer in for a moment before she snorted and tilted the urn towards her sister.

“Hey, look, it’s me,” she deadpanned, prompting Sinnigia to punch her in the arm, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Gross, Cloe.”

On Cloeme’s other side, Kasmeer shuddered. “Getting a little dark with the humor there, aren’t you, Commander?”

“I dunno.” Braham leaned in over the lot of them to inspect the urn as Cloeme popped the lid back into place. “After seeing Joko’s torture room, a lot of other things are suddenly a lot more funny.”

“Braham’s got a point,” Cloeme agreed, fishing in her bag for the money to pay for the urn. Considering they  _were_ her ashes, she probably could have just claimed them in the name of the Pact or something, but that seemed… unfair, somehow. “Once you’ve seen proof your enemy wanted you dead so badly that he was willing to  _practice,_ something like  _this_ is just casual absurdity.”

Kasmeer’s mouth curved in an uncomfortable grimace. “If you say so.”

“I  _do_  say so. C’mon, let’s get this stuff back to camp.”

\---

A needle borrowed from one of the refugees.

A little pulse of power.

One by one, she scratched the lines into the vine of her staff, a faint glow left behind by each one-

-until she was startled out of her self-induced trance by the soft  _thump_ of a small body plopping down beside her.

Cloeme blinked, then looked down to find Taimi huddled against her side. “How goes the nest?” she asked, needle still poised in the middle of etching a line.

“Great!” Taimi said with a smile that didn’t quite ring true. “With all the stuff you brought back and the gifts sent from Tarir, there’s no way Aurene can resist it!” Then she bit her lip and stared at the ground for a moment before raising her head. “Right?”

Cloeme let go of the needle and it remained perched in place as she gently ruffled her friend’s hair. “Right. She’ll be back in no time.”

Weak as it was, the reassurance seemed to help a little, and Taimi turned her attention to the staff Cloeme still held. “What are you doing? Changing the spellwork?”

A stiffening 

A hesitation.

Then Cloeme took a deep breath. “They… aren’t spell runes.”

Taimi squinted at the lines. “Then what are they?”

“They’re… they’re names.”

“Names? But why would you- …  _oh.”_ Little claws involuntarily clenched on one of the fronds of Cloeme’s skirt. “Is… is  _he_ -?”

Cloeme managed a tiny, pained smile, and indicated the position of the needle. “Almost finished adding him. Want to watch?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Taimi curled closer, attention riveted on the scratching of the needle. “There are so many,” she murmured softly.

“Indeed.”

“Is it okay if I ask why?”

One scratch.

Two.

Three.

“Sorry. I-”

“No, it’s alright. I just… have a hard time explaining it in a way that doesn’t sound like I’m punishing myself somehow,” Cloeme said, then sighed. “I suppose… because this is the only way I could think of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every race has their own way of remembering those who are gone. Legends, works left behind, memorial statues, the Dream. I can’t possibly do all of that at once, especially since I can’t risk communing with the Dream anymore. But I can do this. I can carry them with me.”

Taimi seemed to consider that as the needle finished etching the last new name and the glow faded from the markings, then she leaned in for an even closer look. “What language is that?”

Cloeme finally chuckled quietly. “Mine and Sinni’s. When we separated to try different orders, we developed our own alphabet in case anyone was reading our letters to each other.”

“And that  _is_  Blish’s name, right?”

“Right.”

Taimi chewed on her lip some more, then held out a hand. “Can I borrow your needle?”

“I borrowed it myself,” Cloeme replied, handing it over. “But I suppose if we return it in one piece, the owner won’t mind.”

A spark.

A flame.

Then Taimi carefully began to use the heated needle to etch into one of her gauntlets, studying the lines in the staff with a sharp intensity. When she was satisfied, she blew on the needle to cool it. “There,” she said with a grin that seemed much more honest than before as she showed off her arm. “Maybe I can’t carry everyone you do, but at least I can carry him, right?”

Cloeme smiled back. “Right.”

\---

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting.

Sitting  _there,_ unable to do anything but silently stare at the shard-speared body of the only being in the world who'd been as close to her as the twin currently keeping her from curling up in a ball.

Her breathing hitched painfully and her other half wrapped an arm around her shoulders to further keep her steady.

She didn't need to hear footsteps to know who was coming, and she gave an exhausted sigh dredged from the deepest hollow of her being, a sigh that made Sinnigia's arm tighten. "Go away, Caithe."

"Cloeme, I know-"

"Go  _away,_ Caithe," Sinnigia echoed, her tone much more harsh; a warning.

The presence behind them didn't leave as ordered, but at least Caithe apparently had finally learned when to keep her mouth shut.

Ignoring her, Cloeme rested her head against her twin's shoulder, the pain in her chest too cold to let her cry this time. Sinnigia rested her cheek on her hair, continuing to prevent her from falling apart.

And they resumed their silent vigil.

 


End file.
